Capes and Crusaders
by Jazz the Wolf Demon
Summary: In a city of corruption, one man will fight to take back the streets. Add in a fiery private eye, a smartmouthed butler, a pair of cops, and a heap of danger to get one very busy superhero. What happened to just saving the day and getting the girl?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** No lies, no excuses, here's the bottom line. I was going to start _Behind the Scenes_, but I pushed it back for several reasons. **1**) I've been devoting a good deal of my writing time this summer on original projects (my first novel). **2**) I was looking through my ideas folder and found this one, and couldn't stop thinking about it for weeks! **3**) I've gotten a little tired of writing the heady romance -- now, I love writing romance, and you will never find a piece of my writing without some in there, but with _Unknown_ becoming such a serious, dramatic piece (which I really am happy about) and _Baby Mine _being so emotionally close to me and _Wish Fulfillment_ just becoming bigger and bigger with plot devices, I just wanted to start something fun and low pressure. **4**) I have been itching for some action. Plain and simple. I haven't really done action since _A Fighter's Story_ and I am eager to get into a good old-fashioned adventure story. Therefore, enjoy this, my newest brain baby!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing...except a little of the dialogue and an unhealthy obsession with both the Inuyasha empire and the people at Marvel/D.C. I wish they would return my calls...

**Dedication:** To you, the readers. Something new to cut your teeth on until I start posting _Bending The Rules_ during the Winter.

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**Capes and Crusaders**

**Chapter 1**

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_Once upon a time, human beings lived in a world of myth and legend, where fantasy was reality. Once upon a time, human beings worshiped mythical creatures called Demons, who possessed magical powers and had the power to slay or save. Once upon a time, human beings lived in a world of heroes._

_But once upon a time ended in the dawn of the civilized world. When religion became fiction and science became fact, when heroes were replaced by law and government, and when Demons were tossed from their pedestals. _

_Thus dawned the Age of Man, where all that was different was destroyed and all that was misunderstood was feared. It was in the Age of Man where those who were different learned to blend, to coexist, in order to survive. It was in the Age of Man that heroes watched and waited, biding their time until they were needed again..._

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It was a dark night, as most nights are. But there are different kinds of night in the world.

There are nights when the sky is red from clouds and lights and storms. There are nights when the stars shine through, unblemished, in all their glory. There are nights when the moon is so full and so bright that it is almost as light as day. And then there are nights like this night, when the dark is so thick on the ground it could suffocate a man. When even the city streets, with all the headlights and lamp posts and late worker's offices and flashlight echoes of kids hiding beneath their covers with a comic book, still shining with all their might, seems muted. When even the very air seems dark and heavy.

These kinds of nights were the kind the people of this city feared more than any other, because these were the nights when the gangs and prowlers came out to play.

This was a city not unlike most cities. There were all kinds of people who called it home. They worked regular jobs and went home to regular apartments to their regular spouses and families. There were the rich and the poor, the young and the old, the collections races and religions, and then there were the Variants. The decedents of those long gone Demons, who inherited a bit of that mythical blood.

Of course, the truth about Variants was only whispered in stories and rumors. It was rare to find a true one in this day and age. Those who were had become adept at hiding it, and there were few who genuinely believed they existed anymore. It was difficult to find someone who believed in _anything_, especially in this city, which was scarred inside and out by the lowest class of citizens that walked her streets. She had survived wars, depressions, fires both accidental and deliberate, natural disasters, and riots that knocked marred her foundations, only to be rebuilt again. She was a city of history and character, but now she faced her toughest opponent yet: The twenty-first century.

This was a time where police roamed the streets, afraid of what might be lurking in the dark. This was a time when gangs and criminals called the shots, where drugs and nubile bodies were currency, and blood was always the payment for failure. This was a time when the law and the system crumbled, when the innocent people had no choice but to submit or be crushed. It was a time of fear and cynicism and indifference.

Yet, as hard as the blackness pushed against the citizens, hope remained in the streets. Hope that things would get better.

Such feelings of hope were just what Naraku Araignee fought to destroy. As the leader of the Spider Syndicate, the largest crime ring operating within this city, he was the most powerful man in the Underground. But because a man held a city's government in his pocket, didn't mean he was too good to order a few roughneck kids to cause a little mayhem.

It was little surprise to spot his lackeys wandering the streets after dark. They all sported the same spider mark, either on their clothes or inked into their skin. Sometimes both. Such a signal was all a person needed to turn the other way, or lock their doors tighter. Or, if needs be, open their register and duck under the counter.

Two of such men, their spider marks displayed brilliantly across the backs of their leather jackets, decided it would be fun to terrorize the clerk of an all-night convenience store on this pitch black night. One, tall and beefy, sauntered up to the white counter. His head was shaved and he wore sunglasses, even in the dead of night. He slammed a meaty fist on to the counter, making the clerk jump and visibly shiver. This only made the gang banger smile.

His companion, a small mousy character with a pointed nose and beady eyes, rummaged through the small aisles, grabbing as much junk food as he could hold in his twiggy arms. He laughed heartily as he did so.

"Please," the clerk begged, his voice laden with an Asian accent. "Stop!" He quivered as the larger of the two men leaned over the counter.

"You know da rules," he slurred. "You still open dis time a night, and we're hungry. Ain't dat right, Rat?"

"That's right!" his companion agreed, still giggling in a high pitched voice.

"So you're doin' a good t'ing here," the behemoth continued. "By givin' us dis food, you're stoppin' us from torching dis piece a shit store ya got here."

The clerk trembled harder and the two thugs only laughed harder. Rat scurried for the door as his companion hit the register with his huge hand, making the drawer pop out. He then grabbed a handful of twenties, stuffing them in the pocket of his jacket before moving to the door. "Night," he called while laughed.

The store clerk only made a strangled noise in his throat, watching his entire day's income walk out the door, along with a week's work of snack food inventory.

Back on the street, Rat giggled with his prizes in his arms. "Shut da hell up," the big man growled, grabbing a bag of corn chips. "You sound like a fuckin' girl."

"How much didja steal from the foreigner, Ox?" Rat asked, eagerly watching at the other man took the wad of money from his pocket.

"If ya'd keep quiet enough ta let me count it, I'll tell ya," he replied. "For fuck's sake."

"I would say you have about three hundred," another voice commented. This one carried an educated lit and a cool tone.

"I think dat's about ri--" Ox stopped thumbing through the bills once he realized it wasn't Rat who said that. "What da hell?"

"I didn't say nothing, Ox," Rat said.

"I know dat wasn't you, ya little shit." Ox looked around them, Rat doing the same, beady eyes scanning the dark streets.

"I don't see nobody either."

"I can see dat, too."

"Try looking up," the voice said again, amused. The pair of thugs looked up to see the outline of a man standing on a fire escape ten feet above them. The dark was too thick to make out much about him other than his shape, but it was clear that he was leaning against the railing, casual. "There you go."

That said, the man on the fire escape shifted in a blur of motion, leaping over the railing and landing on the sidewalk a few yards from the gang bangers. The ten foot fall didn't seem to phase him in the slightest, straightening on his feet and gazing at them calmly. With his back to a streetlight, both thugs had a good look of the newcomer. Tall and lean, he was garbed in a tight fitting body suit of red and white, a scalloped black cape fell down his back from his shoulders. At his waist was belted a long sheath, housing a single blade. Whisking around his face was a curtain of straight silver hair that glowed eerily in the lamplight, and nestled atop his head was a pair of triangular ears. His eyes, a piercing yellow, glowed from behind the slits in a black mask that covered the top portion of his face.

"What da hell are you supposed ta be?" Ox asked, snickering.

"The cape was not my idea," replied the well-costumed newcomer. "But I figure I should travel in style if I'm going to be beating up pieces of shit like you."

Ow growled, cracking his knuckles. Rat hissed, "who the hell do you think you are?"

"No one special," the caped man commented, a smirk spreading over his lips. "Just a hero."

"I dun care who da hell ya are," the big man said. "I'm gonna break dat face a yours."

His smirk widened and he shifted his stance, placing his weight on the ball of his back foot. "Show me."

Ox lumbered forward, his fist pulled back and at the ready to collide with soft flesh, but just as he got within range, the caped man spun out. Ox's fist flew forward, into the air where the newcomer had been standing, but hit nothing. His opponent swung around, grabbing Ox by the shoulder of his swinging arm, using the big man's own momentum against him. With a slight nudge, Ox was sprawled on the sidewalk. He roared as he pushed against concrete to get back on his feet.

The caped man danced from one foot to the next, his fists raised like a boxer. He was still smiling, and that enraged Ox more than anything.

He barreled forward against, fists poised and ready. This time, his opponent stepped into him, past his arm first arm. The second glanced off of his rib cage, deterring the caped assailant only momentarily before he rammed his shoulder into Ox's chest. This knocked the big man off course just long enough for the masked man to land an elbow to the side of his face. Ox reeled, and couldn't collect himself fast enough to block the next blow that came from a knee to his gut. Doubled over, the big man was delivered an uppercut to the chin. He went down fast, but his opponent wasn't down yet. He placed his boot across the big man's airway, leaning over to smile down at him.

"I thought you were going to break my face."

Ox gripped the boot, trying to push it off of his throat, but this man was much stronger than he appeared to be, and the thug couldn't budge the foot on his windpipe. Soon spots danced on the outside of his vision. The masked man applied just enough pressure to make sure his opponent blacked out, but didn't die. Once that was accomplished, he turned back to the little one.

The fight had only taken a minute or so to finish, and Rat had watched with huge eyes as his hulking friend was taken down. The stolen goods slipped from his arms when the masked man looked at him, and he turned to flee. Almost impossibly fast, the masked man was on him in an instant, knocking him to the ground. Rat curled into a ball, covering his head.

"Don't hurt me!" he squealed.

"I bet a hundred people said the same thing to you," the other said, his voice betraying its first hints of malice. He kicked Rat in the gut, turning him on to his back.

"Please, don't kill me!"

"I'm not going to kill you," the masked man said, smiling again. Only this time, Rat was scared of that smile. There was too much danger in his expression. "That would be too easy." Instead, he hauled Rat to his feet. "You're going to tell me what Naraku sent you out here for."

"J-just a routine scare," Rat stammered, squirming. "Some people around here were getting upity, so the Boss told us to give 'em a little scare."

"That's all?" He shook the crony to prove his seriousness.

"Yeah, yeah!" he squealed. "We're just enforcers!"

The caped man scoffed, throwing the mousy man back on to the pavement. "You're hardly intimidating." That said, he landed a solid kick to the little man's head, knocking him out cold. "Pathetic," he commented, walking back over to Ox, fishing the money out of his pocket. With a snort of disgust, and a swirl of cape, he walked toward the pilfered store.

Inside, the clerk hung up the phone with a sigh. He was unsure whether the police would even bother coming out of this part of town, this late at night. It wasn't the first time his store had been robbed, and it probably wouldn't be the last. But however jaded he had become to living in this city, nothing prepared him for what happened next.

A groan from outside caught his attention, and as he eased toward the window, he looked out to see the two gang members who had robbed his store. Only this time, they had been tied to the fire hydrant on the sidewalk. A local stray dog sat beside them, his tail wagging. The clerk saw that he was holding something in his mouth. Curious, he ventured outside. The dog trotted over to him, dropping an envelope at the clerk's feet before scampering off. Picking it up, the man saw his stolen money placed inside. He looked at the criminals and at the money in his hands, smiling.

Three years in this city and he could still be surprised. It was not an unpleasant thought, he decided, holding the envelope to his chest.

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"Can you _believe _this nutcase? He's been on the front page _every day_ for nearly a week."

A bemused woman tossed her newspaper on to the top of her immaculate desk with a sigh. "It figures. We make one of the biggest arrests of the year, and the weirdo in a cape gets the front page."

This was no ordinary woman of course. This was Sango Nakano, one of the city's toughest female detectives. After graduating from a prestigious police academy at twenty-two, she moved to this city and joined the force because of the high crime rate, and her determination to do some good in the world. She made detective at twenty-six, after working hard and getting a break when the department was gunning to promote women detectives. Now at twenty-eight, she was one of the few assets this city had to offer. Hard working, tough as nails, and one of the few good cops who could not and would not be bought by the corruption that teamed in the streets she patrolled.

"I hate reporters," she replied, sucking on her teeth.

"I guess they're doing their job, just like we do ours." Such a rational argument was rare coming from her partner, one Detective Kouga Loup. He was notorious for having a bad case of tunnel vision when it came to things important to him, but the man was learning to keep a more open mind, especially since he had become partners with Sango when she moved into the department two years earlier. The thirty-year-old detective was still a youngster on the force, but he had a lot of promise and determination. There had been times in the past when he thought about jumping into the bandwagon with some of his academy buddies, to accept that the only way to advance in this city was to become a part of the corruption, but such thoughts were cast aside when he started working with straight-laced Sango. She helped keep him grounded, helped him remember why he had joined the force in the first place.

"And we have to face the facts," Sango replied, propping her feet on her desk and leaning back. Her long brown hair spilled down the back of her chair as she moved. "We just don't sell many newspapers."

"But a guy in tights does?"

"He's definitely more photogenic than your unfortunate face," she joked.

"He wears a _mask_," Kouga shot back. "Besides, no one has even got a picture of this guy worth anything. Vague outlines, blurry exposures...nothing concrete."

"He's real enough."

"Real enough to get the Lieutenant on our backs to find him," he sighed.

"At least he's doing something constructive," Sango allowed. She remembered the meeting the department had earlier, where their boss had stressed the importance of getting crazies like this guy off the streets. "Most people in this city are content to bury their heads in the sand."

"Can you really blame them?" her partner asked, shaking his head. "As long as the Spider Syndicate calls all the shots, people have good reason to be scared. And we can only do so much to protect them, working within this system we have."

"Do you agree with it? Vigilantism?"

"Hell no!" Kouga snorted, narrowing blue eyes as he got to his feet. "Some psycho in spandex running loose on the streets, fighting crime? Is that any better than gang bangers? It's still using unchecked force outside of the law. What happens if he mistakes an innocent person for a crook and beats the hell out of them? Or gets himself killed while fucking around on this crusade? We'll end up cleaning up the mess."

"I don't know," Sango commented. "I think fighting back is a lot better than being a willing victim."

"There's a difference between protecting yourself and going out on to the streets, picking fights with bangers."

"They say this guy might be a Variant," she said, her voice low and her brown eyes narrowed in speculation. Although the pair of them shared a small office together, the door was open, and anyone passing by might hear. They were some of the very few who knew the truth about the rumors, but if it got around the squad house that they were Believers, it could spell disaster.

"That only makes it worse," Kouga insisted, running a hand through his messy dark hair. "If he is, and he fucks up, it'll start more anti-Variant riots. Look at what happened five years ago, when that guy killed thirteen people because he said they were Variants. There were protests in the streets to have him released for doing God's work." He sneered, disgusted, and moved to the small watercooler that was set up in the far corner of their office. "That's all we need to deal with.

"People are assholes," Sango replied. "Half of them claim no such thing as Variants exist, and those that do, get all worked up over it because they're scared. There is always going to be prejudice and bigotry, sad fact of life."

"But that doesn't justify taking the law into your own hands."

"You're a broken record, Kouga."

"Maybe I should run for mayor," the detective joked. "Then I'd only need to know how to say 'The streets are safe' and 'We have to raise taxes'."

Sango chuckled. "How true. Sad, but true."

Kouga filled his empty coffee mug with water from their cooler and returned to his desk. "Most truths are sad in this city."

Their office was a small rectangular room. There were windows on the left wall that looked outside of the building, just far enough for a good view of the bagel store across the street, and windows on the right wall, that looked into the rest of the department floor. There were closed blinds on both windows. Within the room, there was just enough room to fit both their desks, facing one another, two rolling chairs, a pair of filing cabinets and their water cooler.

It was easy to tell whose desk was whose by looking at them. Kouga's was covered with scattered forms that needed to be filled out and case files that needed to be looked over. A small computer sat atop it, accompanied by his phone and printer. Sango's was more organized with a few racks for her papers and files. She had a phone of her own, but no computer; she preferred to work with a laptop that she kept in its case until needed. Her desk was lined with picture frames of her family: her deceased parents and her younger brother.

They each had their own system of work that had, since the beginning of their partnership, fallen into synch with one another. Despite a few rough patches in the beginning of their partnership, the two detectives had become friends. And despite rumors and jokes in their department, there had never been any kind of romantic relationship between them.

It was almost hard to believe, considering they were both young, attractive people with similar interests and tastes, but they were content with a good professional relationship and a platonic friendship. Sango, with her tall, lithe body and no-nonsense attitude, was too tomboyish for Kouga's tastes. And Kouga, with his rough around the edges attitude and abundance of bravado, was no where near as sensible as Sango liked her men to be.

They worked well with one another. They trusted one another. That was enough.

"Have you finished typing up the paperwork for our arrest report from last night?" Sango asked, placing her feet back on the floor and swiveling her chair around to face forward.

"Almost," he replied, sipping his water before typing furiously on his keyboard. "Do you think the charges will hold up in court?"

"I don't know," Sango admitted. "Let's just hope the DA does her job right. And that there isn't a Pocket judge on the bench."

"It'll be tough holding on to someone like Kanna Miroir. She's high on of Spider gang food chain, a personal favorite of Naraku I hear."

"We have her cold," the female detective pointed out. "Possession with intent to sell, prostitution, endangering the welfare of minors. The woman was running a kiddie brothel in the middle of the city. Scum like that should be shot."

"She'll get what she deserves in Hell," Kouga agreed. "Trouble is her lawyer."

"Who is it?"

"Sesshomaru Morita."

Sango groaned. "Not the Technicality King. We did everything by the book. There's no way he can get her off."

"He'll find something. He always does."

"That's why he's the best defense lawyer in the city," she sighed, leaning forward on to her hands. "If he was on our side, he'd be even better."

"He won't switch," Kouga said, annoyed. "He likes fucking with the system too much."

"Figures."

Then came a depressing silence, punctuated only by the clicking of Kouga's keyboard as he went through protocol and typed up his forms. Sango toyed with a file marked Closed in bold letters, feeling her unwavering sprits begin to waver. In some ways, she regretted coming to this city when she could have just as easily stayed in the suburbs and had a quiet life of chasing down drunk drivers and sixteen-year-old trespassers.

Her thoughts continued to go down this road until a knock on the office door jerked her back to reality. Looking up, she saw a familiar face, and grinned. "Well, if it isn't my favorite Private Eye!"

"Hello, hello." A young woman in jeans strolled into the detectives' office as if she owned the place, an old backpack slung over her shoulder. She was average height, slender build, and a real looker. And the way she walked, with confidence and grace, showed that she knew each of those facts very well.

Kouga, looking up from his computer, grinned at their guest. "Kagome, what brings you to our neck of the woods?"

Kagome Higurashi tossed her bag on to the floor next to the desks. "I was in the neighborhood. Thought I would come say hello."

"Were you working on something for the department?"

She shook her head, black hair cascading around her face. "Missing Persons," she replied. "A client had me chasing down a five-year-old case, but I managed to locate her bastard ex-husband. The guy emptied their bank accounts and skipped to Vegas. What a charmer, huh?"

"The moral fabric of society unravels another inch," Sango commented, still half-smiling. "You close out their case?"

"Yeah. With the usual fanfare." Kagome wrinkled her nose, crossing her arms over her chest. "You'd think they'd thank me once in a while for closing some of their cases."

"They're just jealous," Kouga assured her. "You do their job better than they do."

Kagome Higurashi, a twenty-six-year-old private investigator, worked out of a small office downtown. About a year ago, Kouga and Sango had been investigating a murder when Kagome first appeared in their lives. She had been hired by the murdered man a week earlier, to get proof his wife was cheating. She had done that, and more, by uncovering the murder weapon and the identity of the man's killer: his cheating wife. Though it was common for cops and private eyes to bump heads, Kagome and the two detectives got along surprisingly well. It was now a regular thing for them to call her in on certain investigations, or to see her lurking around the squad house.

"I try," the private eye said with a grin. "Word on the street is you guys nabbed one of the Spiders last night."

"A big one, too," Kouga boasted. It was a well-known fact that he was head over heels for Kagome, and took the opportunity to look good in front of her whenever he could.

"Let's hope this one gets squashed, unlike the last one."

"We've got a strong case," Sango told her.

"Then how about we celebrate?" Kagome's gray eyes danced with excitement. "Lunch, on me."

Kouga sighed, looking completely dejected. "I'm going to have to take a rain check," he sighed. "I've got to get these forms done, and it's going to take me a while. We want everything to be in order so there are no excuses at the arraignment tomorrow."

"I have to turn you down too," Sango replied, apologetic. "My brother's coming in to stay the weekend with me, so I was going to work through lunch and get out early to pick him up at the bus station."

Kagome smiled and shrugged, same as ever. "No big deal. I was only offering 'cause I just got _paid_." Her smiled turned sassy as she grabbed up her backpack. "Don't expect me to offer next time."

"Wouldn't dream of it," the female detective laughed.

"I should get back to the office," the private eye commented. "God only knows what my assistants are doing while I'm out." She checked her watch while blowing her bangs out of her eyes. Unlike most people, Kagome kept the face of her watch pressed against the inside of her wrist, right at the heel of her hand, rather than on the back of her wrist. It was a habit she had picked up from her father years ago. "Don't be strangers around _my _place, okay?"

"See you soon, Kagome."

Kouga waved as she left the office, winking as she went.

"_Damn_," he sighed. "I want to sleep with that girl."

Sango laughed. "I doubt sleeping would happen in that scenario." He blushed a bit, but grinned. "I don't see that as likely though. She's a _good _girl."

"I know. That's the kind of girl a man marries."

"Are you thinking of settling down, Detective?"

He gave a bark of laughter. "Not anytime soon."

"Then get back to work!"

He only scoffed and started typing feverishly again.

Sango grinned, until her eyes fell on to the newspaper on her desk once more. The headline read, in bold letters: **Masked Man Foils Midnight Robbery**. She had scanned the article earlier, after their department meeting, with an air of distaste. The papers were dubbing him the "_White Dog_" from descriptions that were given by those who had seen him. A man with silver-white hair and dog ears, who moved like lightning and could take down even the most formidable of opponents.

Personally, she thought he _was _a Variant. One very pissed off Variant who decided to beat the hell out of a bunch of gang bangers. Morally, she saw nothing wrong with it. Ethically, she was against vigilantism. She fingered the newspaper, looking at the blurry picture on the cover of a man in a cape from a distance.

Personally, she hoped that whatever this guy was trying to do, he could do some good for their city, before the cops dragged him in.

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Miroku Baudelaire was a man in possession of several great qualities: great wisdom, great patience, and great intelligence were only a few. It would be surprising to most people to know that such a man of greatness was a butler for a living.

How Miroku came to be a butler in the first place was a long story that involved his father's debts and copious amounts of alcohol. Eight-year-old Miroku was used to pay those debts, and though he hated it in the beginning, he had come to like his new life working for the Hitoshi family better than the one he had left behind. Even after the debt had been repaid and he was free to go, he had chosen to remain in their service. But even affection and greatness could ware thin occasionally, when one was under the employment of Inuyasha Hitoshi.

Here it was, two in the afternoon, and the master of the house was still snoring away in his bed. A bed that was positioned in the middle of a wasteland that had once been a very well furnished bedroom. Miroku had mourned the decorating for a day or so, back when Inuyasha first destroyed it. Now he only sighed a little when he picked his way through dirty clothes, half-eaten food, random piece of broken furniture and weaponry. He would definitely have to do a clean up today.

"Inuyasha," the butler called, moving to the bedside. "It's time to get up."

The sleeping man only grunted, rolling over. Annoyed, Miroku spoke louder this time. "Get _up_, Inuyasha."

"Five more minutes," he grunted.

Miroku clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, scouting around the floor of the room. He quickly grabbed up a wooden sword from where it had been laying on the ground a foot or two away, and proceeded to prod his employer in the side, just below his left arm. "_Now_."

"I'm up, I'm _up_," Inuyasha grumbled, batting the sword away and sitting up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "What time is it?"

"A little after two," Miroku told him. "But you have a meeting at four with the new shipping investors, and a business dinner at six with the Board of Directors." Miroku moved across the room to the window, opening the curtains. He then went to the closet, opening the doors and pulling out a frehsly pressed suit that was then placed across the bed. It was a common routine.

It would have been amusing to see such a scene, considering butlers are almost always depicted as being English and elderly. Miroku was neither: he was actually half-French and half-Japanese, and only just under thirty. While he was on duty, he wore a plain black uniform and kept his black hair tied back neatly. When he was off duty, he liked sweat pants and leaving his hair down around his shoulders. A man of greatness he was, and he took his job rather seriously.

Inuyasha had climbed to his feet, yawning and stretching. He winced a little, lifting his shirt up to examine a large purpling bruise on his rib cage. "Fucker got me good last night," he commented.

Miroku eyed him. "I could get an ice pack for that, before you get dressed."

"Don't worry about it. I've had worse."

"I know," Miroku commented dryly. "I usually ended up piecing you back together."

"That's me," Inuyasha said with a feral grin. "Humpty-frigging-Dumpty."

Inuyasha padded across the room, moving into the huge bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. Miroku shook his head a little, smiling. While his employer was gone, Miroku tidied up a bit and returned to the kitchen on the first floor of the house. When Inuyasha appeared downstairs, he was dressed in the suit Miroku had laid out for him and his long hair was damp, but neat. "I smell bacon," he said, sniffing the air.

"I made it for breakfast," Miroku replied. "But you slept through breakfast."

"I was out late," Inuyasha defended grumpily. He sat at the nearby table, adjusting his tie.

"You've been out late every night this week," the butler countered.

"I've been busy." Miroku carried over a plate with a sandwich on it, and a fresh cup of coffee. "Thanks, Miroku," Inuyasha said before digging in. That was one of the good things about being a butler for Inuyasha Hitoshi -- he always said thanks. Ever since they were kids, and Miroku played the part of his "playmate". After all, they _were_ best friends, even if Miroku now did the laundry for a living and Inuyasha paid him for it.

"You made the front page again," the brunette butler commented, unfolding the newspaper and placing it on the table. "They stared calling you the _White Dog_."

"I have a name?" Inuyasha leaned over, scanning the article under a badly-taken picture. "This is good."

"I'm not so sure it was a good idea to help you in this anymore," Miroku commented. As he moved about the kitchen, placing dishes in their proper places, a set of beads clinked together where they were wrapped around his wrist. No matter his uniform, or the time of day, there was never a time when those beads, and the glove that accompanied them, were off Miroku's left wrist.

"You're the one who made me wear the cape," Inuyasha retorted. "Take responsibility. You're in this as much as I am."

"I agreed to help you," Miroku clarified, "but that was when you decided it was "time" and said this was going to be for the good of the city. _To stop the death and destruction_, I believe were your exact words. This isn't a publicity stunt, Inuyasha."

"I don't want it to be," he argued. "I'm doing this to stop Naraku, plain and simple."

"But all you seem to be doing is beating up a bunch of lowlife punks."

"They don't know anything," Inuyasha said, frustrated. "No plans, no locations. All they do is go around and abuse innocent people. I need to find a way to get into the Underground, into Naraku's world, if I'm ever going to get close enough to stop him."

"Even if you did get in and close enough, an arrest would never stick as long as Sesshomaru is on his leash."

Inuyasha sighed, pushing the rest of his sandwich away. He lost his appetite when thinking of his lawyer half-brother. "I'll get Naraku. It doesn't matter who stands in my way."

Miroku was a little sad when he watched Inuyasha declare this. He knew the reasons behind his employer's actions, why the destruction of Naraku Araignee was so important to him. He knew what had been lost to the chaos of this city. Instead of continuing this conversation, he roused them both by saying, "It's almost time for the meeting."

"Yes." Inuyasha rose from his seat, following Miroku out of the kitchen.

The Hitoshi household was small compared to the size of Inuyasha's wealth, small enough so that he and Miroku could handle the upkeep themselves. There were three floors, large rooms, and a four-car garage attached to the house. The original Hitoshi mansion, the remains half a mile down the road from their current house, was now in ashes from a fire that had consumed it eighteen years ago, when Inuyasha was ten. That was the night he had found himself orphaned and suddenly in possession of a seemingly limitless wealth. In those years, he had trained his body and mind, traveled the world to study and learn, and plotted his revenge.

Inuyasha Hitoshi, a billionaire since birth, controlled a multi-billion dollar company, oversaw dozens of projects and investments, and moonlighted as a super hero when the lights went out. It was amusing for Miroku to be the keeper of such secrets, that a lowly butler knew things that millionaires would die to learn.

"I never get used to these meetings," Inuyasha commented as he slid into the backseat of his black Lincoln. Miroku was driving, as usual.

"That would surprise anyone that didn't know you," Miroku commented. Another thing that Miroku was, apart from butler and aid in a quest of do-gooding, he was a confidant. "You're always so professional."

"Until someone pisses me off and I lose my temper." It was a common occurrence.

"Just don't lose your temper," he coached. "Remember that this investor is very interested in the Hitoshi Company, and you said he would be a good asset."

"He will, as long as his shipping company stays clean and doesn't start taking some extra cash to squeeze some drugs into their shipments." Inuyasha swore under his breath. "I've gone through three shippers in the past year because of that." Naraku's doing, of course.

"This one will be different. I can feel it."

"I wish I had your optimism," Inuyasha said with a smile.

"Everyone needs a fan in their corner, Inuyasha," was his friend's reply.

"Does this mean you'll back me in anything I do?"

"No matter how stupid or wrong you are," Miroku answered.

Inuyasha flashed a rueful smile. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I know you," the butler said. "And I know that you always try to do the right thing, even when it's not the easiest or most direct thing to do. So, if you lose your temper or become a jerk, it's okay. You make up for it later. I've got patience enough to put up with you."

"It's times like this that remind me why I ended up in a cape."

Miroku grinned. "I know, you're totally smitten with me. I'm flattered, but you're just not my type."

"Are we at my meeting yet?" Inuyasha purposefully ignored the previous comment.

"Almost."

"I might skip the dinner tonight and go patrolling," he mused.

"Is that a good idea? Some of the Board members might get upset if you bail out again. You've been late for the last two Board meetings, and you blew off the corporate dinner last month."

"Something tells me there's going to be something big tonight."

"Is that your sixth sense talking, of just your desire to get away from a boring evening?"

Another flash of a smile. "A little of both I guess."

"My professional opinion is that you should go for a little while at least. Then if you need to, I can make excuses for you."

"Then I will take your professional opinion," Inuyasha relented. "Just don't tell them I have Shingles or the Clap this time, okay?"

Miroku grinned in a way that could make a man's blood run cold. Inuyasha only scowled. "Fine, I'll make up something more clever this time. Just be careful when you hit the streets."

"I always am."

The driver sobered, meeting his employer's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Just because you're a Variant doesn't mean you're immortal."

"You're a Variant, too," Inuyasha reminded. "I know what my limits are, just like you do. And I haven't reached them yet."

Miroku sighed a little and pulled the car into the waiting spot. "Good luck in your meeting. I'll wait here for you." Miroku had a book in the seat beside him, and a paper-bag snack. These meetings usually ran an hour or so, and he had learned to come prepared.

Inuyasha climbed out, tugging on his jacket and straightening his tie. "I'll see you when I'm done wooing the investor."

"Keep that cockiness," the butler encouraged. "You'll need it."

"What do you mean? I'm not cocky. I'm just this awesome." Inuyasha grinned and headed inside the towering building that belonged to the Hotoshi Company, the company that was controlled by Inuyasha Hitoshi. As he stepped into the elevator and headed up the dozens of floors, he wondered how shocked all these employees would be to discover that their boss was the guy running the city streets at night in a cape.

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Kagome Higurashi had grown up poor. Not quite dirt poor, since she never had to go to bed hungry or live out of a car, but her clothes were never in fashion and her school books were always second-hand. The five-member Higurashi family had lived off of a police officer's salary, and for those who didn't know, it was not all that much. Then, when that police officer's salary was taken away, the now four-member Higurashi family survived off of part-time and odd jobs. It was a fair thing to say that she was not used to money, or those who had a lot of it. And like most people who grew up poor, her finances were never far from her mind.

She had gotten lucky, though, with her home-grown business.

_Higurashi Investigations_, opened six years earlier almost to the day, enjoyed moderate success as the best private investigators in the city. And that said a lot, considering this was a place that relied more on independents than their own law enforcement officers.

Thanks to this business, Kagome was able to support her family with realtive ease. Her mother, who occasionally moonlighted as a secretary in the office, was able to quit her part-time jobs and stay at home to care for Kagome's ailing grandfather. Her brother, a second-year college student, worked under her at the office as her assistant, along with a friend of his from school, Shippou Renard.

Kagome herself had only take two years of college, to get a minimal degree in criminology from a community college. Once that was attained, she used the rest of the money that had been saved for college and leased her office.

That very office, a small three room flat on the second floor of a building complex, right above a small grocery store, was her pride and joy in the world. As she walked down the street, she saw the wooden sign hanging from the stairs, burned with the name of her business. It brought a smile to her lips every time she saw it, and she picked up her pace as she neared it.

The lights were on upstairs, but there didn't seem to be any fires or disasters befalling her office. Shippou and Souta had been left in charge, and she still found it a bit hard to trust them with everything. Maybe that was just the big sister in her talking.

She sprinted into the grocery store, waving at the three cashiers as they sat at their registers. "Hiya girls!"

"Hi, Kagome," they chorused, grinning. Eri, Ayumi, and Yuka. They were sisters, triplets in fact, whose parents owned the store below Kagome's office. The only real way to tell one girl from the next was the length of her hair, which was shortest on Yuka and longest on Ayumi. They were Shippou's age -- freshmen in college -- and had become great admirers of the investigators that worked upstairs.

Kagome took the stairs two at a time before walking through the door to her office. Happily, she saw that everything was intact. Souta sat at the desk in the right corner and Shippou to the left. There was a door a little before Souta's desk that led into Kagome's private office. The main office, a rather spacious room with a ceiling fan and framed newspaper clippings on the wall, looked like it came out of a mystery novel, which was how Kagome intended. It often entertained her clients. Her office, which was much more professional, served her best to do business.

"I'm back," she announced, closing the door behind her. Both boys looked up, innocent as can be. She wasn't fooled. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Souta said quickly. "There was a thing, but we fixed it."

Hands on her hips, Kagome surveyed her little brother. "What _thing_ exactly?"

"That reporter woman was sniffing around again," Shippou said, running a hand through his bushy red hair.

Kagome groaned, walking toward her office door to toss her backpack into the spare chair inside. Then she moved toward the two desks housing her assistants. "What did she want this time?"

"She was asking questions about the kidnaping case last month, and how your involvement in police investigations is becoming more frequent in high profile cases." Shippou sounded as annoyed as Kagome felt. "I can't stand that woman, I really can't."

"She's only nosing around here because she got kicked off the front page last year for printing false information," Souta pointed out. "I guess she thinks a scandal with the police department would bolster her standing again."

"I'll tell you what she thinks," Kagome commented. "She thinks that I'm going to be her ticket to stardom just because I made the stupid mistake of talking to her after the Melbrook murder." The petite private eye made a disgusted face and shook her head. "I can't stand Kikyou Ueda."

"It's not just her," Souta pointed out. "It's all the press. I think the only people happier about the gang control than the gangs themselves, are the media."

"You're right," Shippou agreed.

"At least you guys got rid of her," the female exhaled. "I don't feel like putting up with her right now."

"The MP give you a hard time?" her brother asked.

"Just as pleasant as always," she responded, situating herself against the side of his desk. "But it's part of the job. And I _did _close the case."

"And you have twenty more to close," Shippou replied, waving at a stack of files.

"You're killing me. Both of you. Putting me in an early grave."

After a few moments of quiet chuckling, where Kagome grabbed a few of those files and headed into her office, conversation started up again. "Hey Kagome, did you see the paper this morning?" Souta, who had spoken, was given a thumbs up by Shippou. They both knew what was to come.

"Did I?" she called from her office. "You mean the huge article and picture of the idiotic, thick-headed, inconsiderate, thoughtless _douchebag_ parading around the city in a leotard?" Her tone was sickly sweet and her smile masked barely concealed hostility.

"Yeah, _that _paper."

All she did was sniff. "I saw it."

Shippou beamed at her. "You can't tell me that you don't think the guy is amusing. The _White Dog_, how _lame_ is that!"

"It's funny, all right, until this jerk does something stupid and there is a backlash." She shook her head. "This guy is running around, playing hero, and everyone eats it up. I guarantee that Kikyou Ueda is eating this up!"

"Probably."

"But what if he really is a hero?" Souta argued. "I think it's a good thing to have someone stand up to the gangs."

Kagome shook her head. "Vigilantism is _illegal_. Leave that stuff to comic books and manga. In real life, we have to trust in the cops and the system."

"Fat lotta good that's been doing us," he shot back. "Is being a vigilante really that different from what _we _do?" For a moment, she balked. "I mean, we act outside of the law sometimes."

"We still work inside the system. Everyone is bound by that principle. We might not have to answer to the cops all the time, but we still have the duty and honor to uphold the law and help the city."

Shippou wiggled the front page at her. "Isn't that what this guy is doing?"

Kagome shook her head, giving them a rueful smile. "I've yet to see him do anything constructive, other than act the part of Caesar Milan and give a few bangers black eyes."

"I think the guy shows promise."

"I concur."

She giggled. "Little boys with their role models."

"I _do _admire him," Souta replied with a dignified air. "At least he's not afraid to be out in the open."

At that, Kagome sobered. "He wears a mask, Souta. That's not being open."

"He _is_ a Variant, though. That's got to mean so-"

"It doesn't," she said firmly. "This just makes it harder for the rest of us." The three Variants quieted, absorbing the truth of their situation. "We live our lives like everyone else. It's nut jobs like this guy who try to drag all of us into the open. Into danger."

"I'd rather that than all this lying and hiding," Shippou whispered. "It's like we have to live our lives waiting for the anvil to fall."

"It's our burden," Kagome recited, a familiar speech. "Because we were born with gifts others don't have."

"Not always fair if you ask me," Souta sighed, settling back into his chair.

"Life never is." Kagome ran a hand through her hair, forcing a smile in an attempt to cheer her assistants. "I should get going again. I figured I'd get a jumpstart on the Courthouse case."

"I still can't believe that Kagura Deveroux hired us," Souta said with a whistle. "She was pretty scary."

"She also happens to be the best District Attorney in the city," Kagome reminded. "I heard from Sango and Kouga today that they got an important member of the Spider Syndicate in custody. Kagura is probably worried about a leak of information to the Defense, like what happened during the Yura Cheveux trial. It's just a routine background check into the court officers, so I don't expect a lot of excitement."

"Why didn't she get cops to do this again?"

Kagome grinned, slinging her backpack on to her back once more. "They're more likely to sell information than I am, apparently. But remember, this is a hush-hush issue, so no spreading it around at school."

"What do you take us for?" Souta asked in mock outrage.

"College boys," she laughed. "I'll see you guys later."

"Be careful!"

She blew them a kiss before heading off, back into the city streets.

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All her life, Kagome Higurashi had possessed an innate ability to find what was lost. It was almost like an afterthought, when she would remind her father where he put his keys, or remind her mother that she had taken off her wedding ring to clean the sink. As she got older, this ability only got stronger. She used to be able to find runaway pets for kids in the neighborhood, and known exactly where a stolen book bag and school ended up. She also had a talent for reaching for the phone just a second or two before it would start ringing. It had taken her a while to control her other powers, powers like a heightened sense of intuition and instinct, and powers she had always been too terrified to use.

After a while, her parents had sat her down and explained to her what a Variant was, and what that had to do with her. They had also told her that she could never tell anyone else about this secret, because it would cause trouble for her and her family. Since that day, she had never spoken of her powers and her blood to anyone other than family, and other Variants like Shippou.

In truth, she was scared of this _White Dog_ and what he could potentially do for the Variants of the city. Good or bad, it could usher in a change that many just weren't ready for. In many ways, Kagome was used to hiding that part of herself, and feared what it would be like to have to openly admit to being different.

Shaking her head, she tried to push these thoughts from her mind as she crouched down in the alleyway next to a large brick apartment building. She had followed the court reporter home a short while ago and had set herself up for a stake out. Although it was only a little after seven, she was getting the feeling she might have to be there for a while. From her trusty backpack, Kagome had pulled out her long lense and camera, a small notepad and pen, and an open bag of trail mix. "Can't stake out on an empty stomach," she said to herself, stuffing on a handful of the high energy snack. She also had a thermos of coffee stuffed in there, along with a few other energy drinks in case this turned into a long night.

A small, scraggly dog was sniffing around a trash can behind her. When he came sniffing around her backpack, he started whimpering. Her first thought was to shoo it away, in case it drew unneeded attention, but Kagome had always been kind-hearted. In a world where kindness was often mistaken for weakness, she had always tried to do the strong thing. But in this alley, with no one watching her, she offered the starving creature some of her trail mix. He ate it greedily, and settled down beside her.

"Good boy," she said, patting his head and going back to her surveillance.

When at the courthouse, she had watched several of the employees, but it was the court reporter that caught her eye. The small, shifty-looking woman with a severe bun and a stern scowl on her features had just screamed informant at Kagome. True to form, around ten o'clock that evening, another shifty character approached the apartment building.

This was a man, tall and well-built. He wore a hat and a high collared jacket emblazoned with a spider on the back, a clear sign that he was trying to keep his identity a secret, but not his affiliations. Kagome leveled her camera and ran off a few pictures of him at the door and buzzing the court reporter. She stayed as quiet and still as she could, seeing the tense set of his shoulders and the jumpy way he greeted the woman at the door.

"Do you have the information?" he asked, his voice tight. Earlier in her stake-out, Kagome had planted a small tape recorder in one of the vacant mail boxes and left in on sound activation. She smirked a bit, knowing that the entire conversation would now be on tape.

"It wasn't easy to get," the reporter replied in a shrill whisper. "That lawyer, Deveroux, was sniffing around the office all day." There was an exchange of envelopes, one with information and the other with cash. "Next time will be harder, so tell your people to be more careful."

"You'll do what your told and shut the fuck up," the man snarled, stuffing the information into his jacket. The court reporter sniffed deeply and pulled herself up to her full height, but didn't reply.

Kagome clicked her shutter in rapid succession, during the exchange and brief conversation. As the man in the jacket made his way down the stairs, Kagome shifted her position to get a better shot of his face. Just as she got him in focus and snapped the shot, she placed her knee on the paw of the stray dog beside her. He yelped, jumping up to his feet.

The man in the jacket stopped in his tracks, turning to look at the alley. He saw a flash of metal in the darkness, and then realized it was a camera. "You were being watched!" he shouted at the court reporter. She, stunned, moved back into the building, shoving the door closed. Her accomplice, panicked, ran toward the alley with the desperate idea to grab and destroy the camera from whoever it was that had been photographing them.

Kagome recognized the signs of a desperate man, and knew just what they were capable, as she tried to silence the dog. The damage had been done, though, and the man was running toward the alley. Quickly, she leapt to her feet and took off down the alley herself, clutching the camera to her chest. Her photographs and recording would be the only link to the man's identity, and if he destoryed them, the leak might never stop.

"Come back here!" he yelled, seeing her take off.

She never slowed a pace as she jumped across an overturned garbage can. There was a lowered fire escape a hundred yards away. If she could get there, and up, she might have a chance of getting to the roof, and into the safety of the building. Slinging the camera strap over her neck, Kagome made a mad dash. His footsteps were behind her, closing in, but she got to the ladder first, swinging her body around to land on the first rung.

Kagome was halfway up the ladder when he reached her. "You're not getting away!" he yelled, climbing fast.

The first real licks of fear began in Kagome's stomach. Her foot slipped just before she got to the top of the first ladder, and it was just the break her attacker needed. He grabbed her ankle and tugged. Kagome gripped the top of the ladder with all her strength and withstood his first attempt, but then he put all his weight on to his attack. She screamed and lost her grip, falling backwards off the ladder. Luckily, some bags of garbage broke her fall at the bottom, but the informant was on her in a second.

"Get away!" Kagome growled as they struggled, him pulling on the camera, her fighting him away.

"Give me the fucking camera!" he swore. He pulled up and smacked Kagome hard across the side of her face. She reeled, biting the inside of her cheek, momentarily stunned. He tugged hard on the camera. Kagome suddenly remembered all the times her father had taught her to fight, and all the lectures she had been given when she opened her business, and all the statistics about women getting overpowered, and forced her knee upwards, hard, into his groin.

When he opened his mouth to scream, no sound came out. That was how much that single blow had hurt. Kagome was able to push him off of her and get to her feet, but as she put weight on to her ankle, it crumbled. He must have sprained it when he pulled her from the ladder. She limped as fast as she could toward the mouth of the alley.

A few yards from the street, he tackled her from behind. "You little bitch," he snarled, scratching at her furiously. He had lost his hat somewhere in the alley. "Give me that damn camera!"

"No!" she responded, curling tightly in on herself, protecting the camera.

He pulled back his fist, ready to hit her again, but something at the mouth of the alley stopped him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," a newcomer commented.

"Holy shit..." the assailant breathed, scuttling backwards on all fours. "You...you...you..."

Kagome looked up from where she lay, dirty and bleeding from scraps, and saw a pair of red boots standing a few feet away. Around the ankles hung the scalloped edge of a cape. "Oh no..."

"Me?" the caped man asked, moving around Kagome and toward her attacker. "I'm the White Dog."

Kagome sat up in time to see her attacker try to run, then see her rescuer attack him. It was over in a matter of blows and seconds. The White Dog landed a few choice hits and the informant crumbled to the ground, bleeding and unconscious. When that was done, he came over to Kagome and held out a hand to help her to her feet.

She purposefully ignored him and climbed to her feet herself.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing!" Kagome suddenly railed, turning to face him. She was standing on one foot, hands on her hips, covered in dirt and garbage, but it was enough to make him take a step back.

"What do you mean?" he asked, recovering quickly. "I was _saving _you."

"Who said I needed saving?" she shot back. "I could have handled it."

The White Dog looked from her to the lump of gang member laying on the alley floor, then back again. "Didn't look like it from where I was."

"Figures, a man has to save the poor, defenseless woman." Kagome fumed as she hobbled away from him, gathering her things back into her backpack. "Next time, don't butt into a situation where you aren't wanted."

He was completely floored, and followed her as she cleaned up her things and hobbled up the steps to grab something out of a mailbox. "_Excuse me_?" he said after a while. "I just _rescued_ you! Aren't thanks and gratitude in order?"

She fixed him with a look of utter loathing. "Sorry, _hero_, you've got the wrong girl for that." Kagome limped up toward him, poking a finger into his chest menacingly. "In fact, I've got a few words for you." Stunned beyond words, he simply stared at her from behind his mask. "Not everyone appreciates your running around. Vigilantism is a crime, too, and with all your misplaced heroics, you're going to stir up a lot of Variant opinions!"

Once again, the White Dog was not silent long. "What I'm doing is going to help this city! Men like Naraku Araignee shouldn't be running it, the people should. And if my being a Variant causes trouble, then it's trouble that should be caused!"

"You're a thoughtless jerk!" she delcared. Turning on her heel, Kagome hobble a few feet from him. Her back ridged and her hands fisted, she turned only her head. "You saved me, so I won't call the police. But I swear, if I see you again, I will."

It was quite an amazing feat to see a woman retain such dignity as she limped down the street, but the White Dog was too confused to give her a proper helping of respect. What had he done wrong, to deserve such a chewing out?

The stray dog who had mooched mix from Kagome earlier trotted over to him, rubbing his shaggy head against a costumed leg. The White Dog patted his head absently, musing. The dog butted his hand and the hero noticed there was something in the dog's mouth. Tugging it gently, he pulled a business card from the canine's jaws.

Written across the slightly chewed surface was _Higurashi Investigations_. Just beneath it was an address and the name Kagome Higurashi, chief investigator.

The White Dog smirked.

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**A/N:** Behold, the first chapter! What do you guys think? I love it already! I'm giving it a "Batman" feel, because I find it amusing to make Inuyasha independently wealthy -- and Miroku is totally the Alfred to Inuyasha's Batman. I also have a lot of great ideas for this one. Such action, such adventure, such costumes! I hope you guys will enjoy this story, because I'm really excited about it!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Brand New Chapter, chock full of typos and straight to your living room. I'm **BACK**.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Not Inuyasha. Not any rights to superheroes. Nothing at all but my small dose of talent and a lot of debt to the state of New Jersey.

**Dedication:** To the people who DIDN'T give me shit for not updating. Thanks for having some human compassion.

* * *

**Capes and Crusaders**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

It was cold that night. Cold and dark. Standing in the six-foot radius of the only lit streetlamp on the street, a lone figure kept a silent vigil at a bus stop. The light did little to peirce the damn darkness around the street, and was more like a target to show where this person stood, but she had come to the conclusion that is was better to be in the safety of the light than to lurk in the darkness with God knew what else.

Sango Nakano huddled in her long black coat, her white breath hanging in the air around her, mingling with the smoke from her lit cigarette.

Smoking was a habit she'd picked up recently, a release for stress.

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be snug inside her ratbox apartment, eating a horrible microwave dinner, and watching Wheel of Fortune. But no, she was out here in the frigid weather, waiting at the bus stop for her baby brother to arrive, feeling less and less like a cop and more like Nanook of the North.

Finally the headlights of the bus pierced the heavy dark of the street and it slowed its bulk down beside the curb where Sango waited. She tossed down the butt of her cigarette, stamping it out beneath her boot, and turned toward the open bus doors.

A few people got off: some elderly ladies, a couple with a kid, none who she was looking for. Her heart beat fast, her mind already thinking of the worst, until he stepped down.

A youth, tall and thin as a willow, stepped off the bus with a backpack in his gloved hand. He wore a studded leather jacket, something that went along with his studded face: a nose ring, a lip ring, a bolt through his left eyebrow and one through his tongue. His feet were incased in combat boots, his pants and backpack both made of camo material. Most teenagers took up a sport, or joined a club, Kohaku had gotten a do-it-yourself kit for body piercing. At least he didn't have any tattoos yet.

"Hey, bro," Sango called, smiling hugely. She ran the few steps forward to meet him, feeling giddy.

"Hi, Sango." He broke into his usual sunny grin. Such a sweet boy with such a mean face. "Cold as fuck out here."

"Watch your mouth," she chided, frowning at him before pulling him into a bear-hug. "I haven't seen you since Christmas. I missed you, little brother."

He returned the embrace happily. None of his friends were here to make fun of him for it, not that it had ever stopped him from being affectionate with his sister. Kohaku had always had trouble getting close to people, but never Sango. "I've been busy, doing my thing. And you've been busy, too. Bustin' some bad-guy ass."

She grinned ruefully and shook her head. "I wish it was that easy."

Kohaku slung his backpack over his shoulder and then put his arm around Sango. "Why don't we get out of this weather and eat some trash. We can stay up late and gab like old girlfriends."

"Sure. I've got all the necessities at home."

"Cherry Coke and Oreo cookies?"

"You bet."

Kohaku leaned over and kissed Sango's hair. "How I've missed you!" She laughed, hugging him around the waist again as they walked off toward her apartment.

Sango and Kohaku Nakano had a relationship that people usually saw on television, not because they had wanted it but because of necessity. They had grown up bad.

They were unwanted children. Orphans. Sango had vague memories of their real parents, but they had both died in a car accident when she was seven and Kohaku was less than a year. Since they had no other family, they had been shuffled around from home to shelter. There was neglect. There were fights. And sometimes there was hitting. As a child, Sango learned quickly to keep her head down and her mouth shut. She never had any friends and never really talked. No one cared. There was Kohaku to worry about. He was so small and helpless during those years, and he was all Sango had. She resolved to protect him from the world at all costs.

She'd done her best. Kohaku had grown up admist the same abuse, but Sango always took the hits for him. She'd give him the best hiding places when things got bad. She's say she did anything that he'd done wrong. She'd beat up other kids who'd try to pick on him. He grew up adoring her in almost every way, trusting her and loving her completely. When someone had come along, wanting to adopt one or the other, they refused if they were not together.

There had been worse things that hitting during those years. Things that happened outside on those nights when Sango never wanted to go home. There were memories she never wanted to think about, images of dark faces and cold hands that she wished she could forget. There were some things she couldn't even tell Kohaku.

She had managed to protect Kohaku from the horrors she had endured, and that was the glory of her life. He had given her a reason to live on days when she wanted to die. It gave them a bond stronger than brother and sister, something that transcended blood.

When she turned eighteen, Sango had petitioned social services for custody of Kohaku. She didn't win, but she helped them to place the then ten-year-old with a good family. One that respected her wishes and loved her brother. Now that he was twenty, Sango helped him pay for college, and he spent every vacation with her in the City.

As a cop, Sango saw their scenario a lot more often than she would have liked. It was her main motivation, to fight the world and protect kids like her from the childhood she'd had. Her dream was to change the system from the inside out.

"How's school going?" she asked when they were back at her apartment and thawing out.

"Okay," he admitted. "Been working on some tough assignments, but I'm confident."

"Good," she said with a smile, handing him a hot chocolate. "Any girls yet?"

He blushed and shook his head. "No. Not enough time for girls."

"That's okay. You'll find one soon, little bro." She's be a little sad when he finally went out into the world, find a girl and a career. But that just meant she'd have to do the same.

"What about you? Any guys?" He lifted his brows suggestively. "What about that partner of yours?"

Sango twitched. "Kouga? No way. We're...so not going there." She shivered and made a face.

Kohaku laughed. "Okay. But there's no one else?"

"Not right now." She sipped her own drink and reached for a cookie. "I'm focused on my work. Right now, we're trying to dismantle the biggest gang in the city."

"The one with the bug name, right?"

Sango laughed. "Yeah, the Spiders."

"Good luck." He raised his glass for a toast.

"I'd rather we hope for something more mundane. Like a good visit."

"Afraid of a jinx?"

"You know I'm the superstitious one."

Kohaku grinned and nodded. "Okay, here's to a great weekend."

"I'll drink to that."

They clinked their glasses and drank deeply.

* * *

A pair of young men walked along the dark streets of their city, joking and laughing about what they'd done during the day. They were late teens, clean and well-fed, so those who saw them pass knew they weren't boys from the street despite their meager clothing. The taller of the two had a camera around his neck while the smaller carried a backpack that contained their stake-out kit.

One boy was named Souta.

The other, Shippou.

"At least she finally sent us on an assignment today," Souta said with a shrug

"Yeah, to get some photos of a cheating husband. Nothing important." Shippou stuck his hands in his pockets. "I want her to take us on some of the murders or even the government cases!"

"You know she's too paranoid to let us get involved in anything high profile."

"It bites being an assistant."

"Tell me about it."

They were so deep in their conversation that neither boy noticed they were being followed. Or at least they pretended not to notice. It started as one, then two. Soon five large men were trailing them from the alleys, in the dark. All of them wore similar jackets with a spider's insignia in the back. They didn't speak to each other as they stalked the two boys, because they all knew the routine. Pick a target, trail them into a safe location where no one would be around with a hero complex to try and interfere, then beat the target until they couldn't defend themselves. These boys probably had some cash and a card or two on them. Enough for some fun in the slums for the gang members.

"I hate being downtown," the smaller boy sighed, tugging on a piece of red hair.

"Me too. Too many pests on the streets."

"Do you think this plan will really work?"

The boy shrugged and smiled. "If not, I guess we're screwed."

"You're a Precog, can't you tell what's going to happen?" Shippou shot back.

"You know I don't have visions when I'm awake."

"I hate being your best friend."

They turned a corner on to a dark and secluded street. One that they knew was a dead end. The gang members following them blocked the exit of the street, moving in after them. The boy's turned and saw that they were cornered for the first time, but they were not afraid.

"Hey, hand over the cash," one of the bangers said, flexing his arm in a threatening manner.

"We don't have any," Souta said, pulling the insides of his pockets out as proof.

Shippou did the same. "We're just on our way home."

The leader of the bangers was not amused and nodded toward them. "Check them out, boys." The other four smirked and chuckled, advancing on the two boys.

"Uh-oh," Shippou said, sliding the backpack off of his shoulder. "Looks like we're in for some trouble."

"When are we ever _not_ in trouble?" Souta shot back. Both remained calm as the thugs advanced on them. When one grabbed Souta's shoulder, he quickly spun out of the hold and grabbed the man's wrist. "We don't have anything."

The thugs laughed. "Look, he's trying to fight back."

Shippou laughed, backing up a little. "They're making fun of you, Sou."

Souta responded by giving his assailant a swift kick to the jaw, falling backwards and rolling back a few feet. He was up again a second later, pulling the camera off of his neck. "I noticed. But you know, you could help."

"I'm getting to it," Shippou said. He kicked an empty soda can up with the toe of his shoe, grabbing it into his hand. "What did you have in mind?"

The thug had gotten back to his feet then, rubbing his jaw. "That's it!" he growled. "Take them down!" The other four rushed at the boys.

"How about an escape route?" Souta said, feeling nervous. He was good, but he wasn't cocky. Five against two wasn't favorable odds.

Shippou gripped the can in his hand, the aluminum glowing a faint green. Then he tossed it to the ground and there was a flash of light and smoke. There was the sound of shuffling as the bangers ran into the thick of it. They coughed and cursed and groped around for the boys. Meanwhile, they grabbed their belongings and were heading out of the alley mouth.

"Go, go, _go_!" Souta shouted, seeing that the leader noticed their escape.

"This is as fast as I go!" Shippous shouted back. He hugged the backpack to his chest as he barreled on.

"They're getting away!" the gang-banger shouted. "Get them you idiots!"

"You could have taken them," Shippou said.

"And you could have helped!"

"This is all your fault! You were the one who said 'let's take the shortcut through downtown and try to see the White Dog!' Why the hell do I listen to you?"

Souta was about to reply when he saw a streak of silver in the corner of his eye. "Shippou, look!"

"I don't want to look," Shippou squealed. "I want to enjoy my last few minutes of life!"

"No, you idiot! Look! It's him!" Souta pointed up as the lithe figure of the city's vigilante dropped from the roof of a nearby building and put himself directly between the two boys and the group of bangers. Souta slowed to watch, grinning. "Things are going to get good, now."

Shippou shivered. "We should take the opportunity to, you know, make a get away?"

"And miss the Dog in action?"

"Damn you and your hero-worshipping!"

"Shh, he's talking!"

The gang members had halted when the masked man had appeared. Of course they knew him, everyone in the gang did. It made them apprehensive, but they didn't back down. It was a matter of pride. "Get out of the way," the leader shouted.

He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Make me."

With a war-cry, the five thugs fell on to the slender figure of the hero. Souta held his breath and Shippou grasped, hugging his backpack even tighter. "They're gonna kill him!"

There was a flurry of motion that even Variant eyes had trouble following. The White Dog dodged the initial onslaught, leaping backwards, then he rushed back into the fray. He took out the first banger with a sweeping kick, knocking him off his feet. The second he sent down with an uppercut right into the jaw. One of the others grabbed him from behind, but he slipped out of the hold and elbowed him hard in the gut, following it up with a punch to the side of his head. The leader of the gang, who hung back as he saw his men getting pummeled, just shouted orders as he pulled a gun out from his waistband.

"He's got a gun!" Souta said, noticing it first.

"We've got to do something," Shippou said, tossing down his backpack. Thinking quickly, he grabbed a quarter from his pocket and charged it. "I'll distract him, you get that piece."

Souta cracked his knuckles and braced himself. "Go!"

Shippou hurled his charged metal, which exploded at the feet of the gang leader into a flash of bright light. He cried out, covering his eyes for the brief second. It was all Souta needed to get in there and grab the gun. He then punched the guy in the gut and followed up with a knee to his face, breaking his nose and sending him to the ground.

In the time it took the two boys to disarm the leader, the White Dog had finished off the other four. He came up behind Souta and took the gun out of his hand. "You shouldn't play with guns, boys," he quipped.

Souta pouted. "We weren't playing. We just saved your life."

He smiled behind his mask and patted Souta on the head in a patronizing manner. "I could have handled it."

"Not from where we were standing," Shippou said, hurrying over.

The hero scoffed and frowned at them. "What are you two doing in this part of town after dark anyway? Don't you know it's dangerous?"

Souta pulled himself up. "It's our job."

Shippou nodded and grinned. "We're assistant PIs."

"PIs...like Private Investigators? _You_?!"

Both boys growled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," the hero said, holding up his hands and taking a step back. "You just...look like school boys."

"Normally we are," Shippou said. "Which is why we're only assistants."

"We work for a real PI," Souta said, feeling pride in his sister's work. "It's a part-time gig for us."

"It's still dangerous out here, assistant PIs or not." The White Dog got into his lecturing voice. "It's irresponsible of your boss to send you out here by yourselves."

"We can take care of ourselves," Souta said. "We're Variants, after all."

The White Dog started at that. "You're what?"

"Variants." Neither boy showed the least bit of hesitancy to admit it. "Like you."

"And who says I'm a Variant?" The two boys stared at him until he sighed. "Yeah, okay. But it's still dangerous. You two need to be more careful."

Souta smiled and nodded. "Thanks, we'll keep that in mind."

Shippou nudged him. "Come on, Sou. Before Kags freaks out."

Souta nodded. "We, uh, need to get going. But...thanks, White Dog." Both boys beamed at him and waved as they hurried off back to a safer part of town.

Inuyasha watched them go and felt a little proud. He was becoming a role model for other Variants, and it gave him that warm, fuzzy feeling inside, until he squashed it when the leader of the pack groaned and tried to get up. Inuyasha walked over to him and kicked him back down, resting his boot over his chest. "Hey there," he said with a smirk. "What are you doing out here?"

"Bite...me," the man panted, spitting out some blood from a cut lip.

Inuyasha pressed down harder with his foot. "We'll try again. What are you doing here?"

"Kiss...my ass!" he said, spitting blood on to Inuyasha's boot.

The hero cringed and moved his boot to the banger's neck, pinning him down like a bug. "One more time. What are you doing here?"

He writhed, then squealed, "recruiting!"

"Recruiting?" Inuyasha let him breathe, moving his foot back to the man's chest. "Members?"

"Yes," he panted. "We were just gonna jump those little fuckers. They ain't what we're looking for."

"Why are you recruiting now?"

"Cuz half our members have ended up in jail!" he said, glaring.

Inuyasha smirked. "Well, that's their own fault."

"Naraku sent us up to find new members. Replenish."

"Why? What's he planning?"

The banger laughed. "Even if I did know, I'd be dead before I got back...if I breathed a word." Disgusted, Inuyasha removed his foot and growled. Another dead end. He turned and kicked the laughing man in the head, knocking him out cold. Then he went to round up the cops.

* * *

Kagome walked into the District Attorney's office with only a slight limp. No one would notice if they weren't watching her closely. She was dressed nicely in her second-hand suit, her hair held back neatly and her bruises cleverly masked, holding a large manilla envelope that contained the information she had gathered. She walked past the front desk with her head held up, not even glancing at the lawyers milling around. Several turned to stare at her as she walked into the DA's office without knocking.

"Always with the entrances," a smooth female voice commented as Kagome closed the door behind her.

"I didn't want to waste time with your receptionist," the PI replied. "Then it might get around why I'm here."

"Smart."

Kagura Deveroux stood up from behind her desk and moved around to the front. She was dressed immaculately in a black and red suit, her hair tied up behind her head. She was tall and slender, with legs that went on forever and a confident smile that could make men sweat. Kagome felt a bit of jealousy when looking at such a professional, beautiful woman, but her feelings for Kagura were mostly those of admiration.

"I got the goods you were looking for," she said, handing the envelope over. "Although the messenger was arrested last night and is probably already singing."

Kagura smiled as she pulled out s few blown up photographs and a cassette tape. "Yes, I heard about your run-in with the Dog."

Kagome snorted. "He'll put me out of a job if he just beats up all the suspects."

The attorney laughed. "He might put them in the cell, but this is going to keep him there. And that little typist bitch too." Her smile was cold. "Thank you for this. You might have just saved my case for me."

"I highly doubt that," Kagome said with a grin. "You're the best."

Kagura nodded. "Too bad I've lost every case I've had against Sesshomaru Morita this year."

"That's because he's dirty," Kagome said fiercely. "Naraku pays off judges and juries. But you make a difference, Kagura."

She smiled and patted Kagome on the shoulder. "Thank you. Sometimes I need a little reminder."

Kagome grinned. "I'm usually available."

Kagura nodded and tossed the envelope down on the desk, picking up a check before handing it to the PI. "Your work is always the best."

Kagome accepted it with a smile. "I do my part."

Kagura hesitated, then looked at the door. "Kagome, I have another job for you." She moved over to the window of her office, closing the blinds, and then made sure her door was locked. "I could never trust it to anyone else, and I need the upmost discretion."

Kagome nodded and sat in one of the chairs facing the desk. "Of course. You know my work is confidential."

The attorney took her seat at the desk again. "It's very important that this remains strictly between you and me. No one else can know, not even your assistants. It's for their protection."

Kagome nodded, leaning forward. This was sure to be dangerous, and the pay would be great. "What is it?"

"I have an informant," she said slowly. "Someone deep in the underground of the Syndicate."

Kagome's blue eyes widened. "You turned a Spider?"

Kagura nodded grimly. "In a manner of speaking. It's...complicated, but unimportant right now. This girl has been vital to more work. Thanks to her, we were able to arrest Kanna and deal a direct blow to Naraku."

"But?"

"I haven't heard from her in almost two weeks, and I'm nervous." Kagura laced her fingers together and sighed. "Normally, she contacts me at least once a week. And I gave her an emergency number, but I'm still worried."

Kagome nodded in understanding. "She's important to your investigation."

"More than that," Kagura said. "This girl is important to me, and I need to know that she's safe."

Kagome smiled. "You want me to find her."

"You're the best. And I trust you."

For Kagome, there was no higher compliment. "I'll do it."

"It'll be dangerous, Kagome. She was deep inside, in the worst circles and the worst part of town."

"I'm familiar with the Pit," Kagome replied. "I've been there several times looking for lost teenagers. What's her name?"

"Rin." Kagura reached into her desk and pulled out a Polaroid photo of herself and a girl no more than eighteen. "Money is no object, of course," Kagura said. Kagome studied the photo. They looked happy, and her heart twinged with pity.

"I'll find her, Kagura. Don't worry."

"Thank you, Kagome."

* * *

Inuyasha paced around his room. There were weapons and training materials all over the floor, even though Mirkou had just cleaned that morning. He maneuvered his way around them easily as he stared at the business card in his hand.

_Higurashi Investigations_.

He grunted and continued to pace. He didn't know why this was bugging him so much. Normally he'd crush people who annoyed him, but that girl had interested him. She had actually yelled at him after he rescued her. That was not your everyday thing. It made him curious about her, in a completely scientific manner.

"You're going to wear a hole in the carpeting if you keep doing that," Miroku commented as he entered the room. He carried in a load of dry cleaning, hanging them in Inuyasha's closet.

"I'm thinking."

"Ah, that's right. You're the kind of guy who can't think without moving." It amused Miroku more than anything.

"Shut up."

Unphased, the butler approached him. "What are you thinking about?"

"Remember a few nights ago, I told you about that girl I saved?"

"Ah, the one who cursed you out?" Miroku grinned, perching himself on Inuyasha's bed and folding his arms. "I like her already. What about her?"

"She dropped a business card during her grand escape." He waved it at the butler. "I'm thinking about how I can get her back for insulting me."

Miroku blinked violet eyes. "Insulting you? Just because she didn't want to be rescued?"

Inuyasha snorted. "I went through the trouble and she didn't even say thanks. It pisses me off."

Miroku was even more amused now. "Aw, I think someone has a crush."

Inuyasha growled. "You want to get fired?"

"You can't fire me," Miroku said casually, yawning. "No one else would put up with you." Inuyasha huffed, crossing his arms. "Don't pout."

"I'm not. I am indignantly ignoring you."

"Okay, well, you can ignore me after you tell me what you want for dinner. The meeting was pushed back until eight, so the board only wants drinks with you."

Inuyasha groaned. "But I was going to patrol early tonight."

"It's hard running a multi-billion dollar corporation," Miroku commented. "Sometimes you have to put your other activities on hold."

"Don't lecture me."

"Just an observation."

Inuyasha grunted. "They were pretty mad that I left the dinner early last week."

"Yes."

"I guess I can go for a few hours."

"That would be best."

Inuyasha trudged over to his dry cleaning, grumbling at the tuxedo that Miroku had laid out for him, anticipating his answer. "You know me too well."

"I know," Miroku said with a grin. "So what are you going to do about that girl?"

Inuyasha fiddled with the card, and then smirked. "Maybe I'll hire her."

* * *

Kagome puzzled over her new case, wondering how she was going to make excuses to the boys about why she was going to the Pit alone. She promised Kagura she wouldn't tell anyone, and it really was safer that no one else knew about it. Still, they were assistant PIs, and a secret was a hard thing to keep in the office.

"Uh, Kags?"

She looked up quickly from her desk, closing the file. "What's up, Shippou?"

The red-head looked behind him nervously. "There's this guy out here who wants to talk to you."

"A customer?"

"I don't know. He said he won't talk to anyone but you." Shippou leaned in a littler further and finished in a whisper. "He's in a suit and carrying a briefcase, definately not our kind of people."

Kagome nodded. "Still, he might be offering a check. Send him in."

Shippou nodded and headed out, and a minute later, a tall man in a black suit walked in. His hair was as black as the suit, and his eyes were dark violet. He was handsome, and he smiled politely at her. "Miss Higurashi?"

"Yes, that's me." Kagome got up from her desk and offered him a chair, shaking his hand. "Welcome to my office. How can I be of service to you?"

"My name is Mirkou Baudelaire and I represent Mr. Inuyasha Hitoshi. He wishes to hire you for a private job."

Kagome sat hard in her chair, staring at him. "You mean..._the_ Inuyasha Hitoshi?"

"Yes."

"The billionaire?" Shippou piped in.

"The multi-billionaire?" Souta chorused.

Both boys were eavesdropping at the crack in Kagome's door. Frowning, she quickly got up and shut it. "My assistants. They're nosy, and are obviously finished with all their other work!" They grumbled and headed back to their desks. Kagome blushed and headed back to her own. "I'm terribly sorry."

Miroku smiled and shook his head. "Please, it's not trouble. They obviously look out for you."

Kagome smiled. "Yeah. My little brothers." Then she straightened in her chair. "Now, what is this job you mentioned?"

Miroku grinned and placed his briefcase on the desk. "Several years ago, when my employer's parents were still living, an heirloom was stolen from their home and has never been recovered. Recently, we have heard good things about your company."

Kagome blushed darkly. "I had no idea that my reputation reached anyone like Mr. Hitoshi." She felt her heart soar to think of it. "He wants me to try and find this heirloom for him?"

"Yes. Over the years, he's hired several investigators to try and find it, but there has been no luck."

Kagome took on a serious expression, determined now to prove that she was worth the hype. "What kind of item is it? Jewelry?"

"A sword, actually." Miroku produced a photograph and passed it to Kagome. "Mr. Hitoshi's father had it custom created the day that he was born, and it has enormous value."

Kagome stared at the picture. "It's very beautiful. How was it stolen?"

"A professional job. Nothing else was taken from the home during a break-in, just that sword."

Kagome nodded and placed the picture down. "Before I accept any job, there are a few routine questions I need to ask."

Miroku smiled and nodded. "Of course."

Kagome cleared her throat. "It must be understood that my office contains only my assistants and myself, so our manpower is limited. Is there any kind of time limit before the job is revoked?"

Miroku shook his head. "Of course, Mr. Hitoshi would appreciate speed, but we have no set limit."

Kagome nodded, pleased. "I have to inquire after a level of danger for this job. I reserve the right to cancel a job mid-way if I judge it to be too dangerous for myself or my assistants. Is that a problem?" Granted, she had never turned down a job because of danger. She usually just kept the boys out of it.

"Of course, we would never ask you to engage in something you judge unacceptable."

"On that note, I want to be up front with the fact that I don't break the law, or condone it in any form."

Miroku smiled. "That is very admirable of you, Miss Higurashi. I know that my employer would appreciate your sense of justice."

Kagome smiled, and then colored a bit. "Lastly, there is the question of payment."

Miroku broke into a grin. "Naturally. Mr. Hitoshi offers a reward of fifty thousand dollars with the return of his sword. In the event that you don't find it, he will offer compensation to any expenses you might have accumulated for his case."

Kagome felt her jaw drop and tried to recover herself. "D-did you...fifty grand?"

Miroku laughed and nodded. "Yes."

Kagome swallowed and nodded dumbly. "T-tell Mr. Hitoshi that I will consider his offer...and I'll get back to you tomorrow."

Miroku nodded and rose, removing a few other things from his briefcase. "This is some of the information that was gathered by other investigators. Please look that over before making your decision."

Kagome accepted it. "I will." Then she shook his hand and led him toward the door. "I think there is a high probability that I will accept this job."

Miroku smiled and nodded his head. "He had the feeling you would. Have a good evening, Miss Higurashi." He shook her hand again and saw himself out.

"Did we hear right?" Souta asked, looking up from the desk where he was pretending to do work.

"Fifty...thousand dollars?" Shippou asked. There were still stars in his eyes. "That's enough to pay off Sou and my tuition for two years!"

"I've got to do it," Kagome said with a nod. "How could I say no to that?"

The boys nodded and grinned, but Kagome wasn't smiling. If other investigators, probably ones with more experience and training than she had, had failed, it wasn't going to be easy. Still, she doubted any of those others had her Variant ability or tenacity.

"You can do it, Kags!" Souta cheered.

"Yeah, you've never lost a case yet," Shippou encouraged.

"And I'm not about to start now."

As they talked over what they would do to get started, Miroku exited the office on the bottom floor. He pulled a cell phone out of his suit and dialed the number of his employee, smiling a little. "It was like you thought. I have every confidence that she'll do it."

"Excellent. There's no way she'll find it."

"You don't know. She might surprise you."

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, an update. You are not seeing things. I hope to get a WF chapter up and out by the end of the month, or maybe early June. I've been tinkering with it for a few weeks now. 


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